


Fake You Out

by Vanilla_Ella



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:14:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8232472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanilla_Ella/pseuds/Vanilla_Ella
Summary: The teacher doesn't expect--well, no one expects little, darling Legolas to draw a picture of his deceased mother, lying in a casket covered with flowers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> People blame plot bunnies for some stories.
> 
> I blame people.
> 
> (Title taken from twenty øne piløts song: Fake You Out)

Third grade, Art class, at precisely 1:45 PM, they are assigned to do a project. A picture of something they love is what the eight year-olds are supposed to draw.

Tauriel chooses to do her stuffed-bunny toy.

Fili and Kili draw their favorite boiled sweets.

Gimli sketches his toy axe.

Aragorn uses his special glittery markers to draw his favorite kind of Lego figure.

Legolas, however, chooses something much more different from the rest of his friends.

"A surprise!" he excitedly tells his classmates, his teacher when they ask. 

He spends five, whole hours drawing it. Three after dinner time, and two before breakfast the next day. He works tirelessly, doesn't even complain when the lead of his pencil snaps off more than twice. 

He wants this to be perfect, and in his eyes, it is.

The teacher doesn't expect--well, no one expects little, darling Legolas to draw a picture of his deceased mother, lying in a casket covered with flowers.

It scares Mr. Baggins, Legolas can tell. The way his mouth falls open, the way his eyes widen with horror upon receiving his work of art. The rest of the children--the people he once called friends--gasp, some clinging onto one another when they realize what exactly Legolas had drawn and the others stepping away from their little, blonde-headed friend.

Legolas can't understand.

Why did he get a lower mark than the rest of the others? Why do they stare at his picture like he drew the devil? Why was he having a talk with Mr. Baggins that he could hardly understand or comprehend?

He sees how Tauriel gazes at him in the cafeteria sympathetically, putting a hand on his shoulder and telling him his picture is beautiful. But he can see how empathetic she is, to the point of her statement being insincere and dry. 

Aragorn tries to hug him and tell him he's sorry for him, but Legolas pushes away, more confused than ever.

Why would his best friend be sorry? For the picture?

It confuses Legolas to no end. 

Because, in his innocent eyes, it's the most beautiful portrait ever, as it held the memory of the last time he ever saw his mother. It held meaning, held a thousand emotions bottled up in his tiny soul. 

Although the other classmates' pictures were nice, Legolas felt as if his had a little more worth, as he truly loved what he had drawn, what he'd produced with his brightly colored crayons and his favorite pencil. It just holds so much meaning, is so personal that it feels like someone crushed his tiny heart when he sees the 'C-' in bright red, right on his picture's corner where there's supposed to be an 'A+.'

He had poured his heart and soul into the picture, trying to explain his words and feelings with connecting lines. 

As he rides on the bus home (alone in one row, for the first time in the school year), he wonders why everyone else got more praise and love for their seemingly shallow sketches of inanimate, replaceable objects.

He cries in his father's arms later that night, clinging onto Thranduil's thin shirt tightly as he tries to hide from the cold chill blowing in from the open window.

"I don't understand," he sobs. "Why don't they like it? Why don't they understand?"

"Some people will never understand, my darling," Thranduil's voice rumbles low and deep, washing over the younger like the comforting ocean he always is.

It only makes Legolas cry harder this time.

"I-I worked so hard, daddy... So hard..."

"I know, baby," Thranduil kisses his forehead, and Legolas can't feel the tears on his head as his father shifts them into a reclined position on the bed. "Come now, darling," he murmurs, voice wavering just the smallest bit, "let's sleep."

Legolas nods silently, although he knows it will be difficult to find peaceful slumber tonight.

He cries until his eyes feel like they're going to fall out.

 

•••••••

 

The first thing he does when he wakes in the morning is take his piece of art from where Thranduil laid it on his desk the night before, insisting he wanted to keep it, that it was beautiful.

But now, with the sadness and confusion dissipated, all the little boy can feel left is a deep anger and resentment in his little heart. 

He tears up the picture until it's nothing but little shreds, and a well-timed gust of wind from the open window blows the pieces away to the floor.

Legolas sees how Thranduil stares at him with heartbreak.

His father takes a little longer in the shower than normal.

Legolas is ready for school by the time his father comes out, and he tries to ignore the red, puffy eyes like Thranduil always tells him to. Legolas quietly takes his hand as they walk towards the car, silent and not questioning the fact that his daddy wears long-sleeves even though winter is long over and spring is beginning to heat up.

After Thranduil drives him to school, he leans over and kisses Legolas on the lips briefly, asking him--no--begging him to have a good day.

Legolas nods and tries to smile for his daddy, but as he begins to walk to the school, he frowns and tears threaten to spill over when he hears his father breakdown inside their car.

 

•••••••

 

 

The next art project rolls around a week later.

Same assignment, same time, same class.

This time, Legolas chooses the same, bland object to draw (his simple, stuffed Elk toy), just as the rest of the children.

It's boring, inanimate. It'll barely matter in five years.

But he receives a much higher grade of an 'A+.' His friends congratulate him and tell him the picture is pretty and cute, but Legolas simply nods, void of emotion or feeling for the picture.

It's like he was forced to make what he had, and the regret and the bored complacency in his normally bright and joyful face shows it all.

When he shows it to his daddy later that day, Thranduil smiles and tells him "It's beautiful, darling."

Legolas mirrors Thranduil's smile--before he uses his small little hands that once created to rip and destroy it before his father's horrified face.

**Author's Note:**

> I just realized I accidentally orphaned all my works... I was really angry and frustrated and now I'm strangely numb... Is this a sign I shouldn't be here? ....It probably is.
> 
> Anyways, I'm sorry for any misspellings or grammatical errors. I know this was really weird and random and made no sense at all, but hey, self-expression, am I right?
> 
> Thanks for reading. Till next time.
> 
> xxx V


End file.
